I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You
by Caitlyn Rose
Summary: “Y’know, some would say that kissing another woman five minutes before you get engaged isn’t really the best foundation for a marriage. But hey,” Peyton shrugged nonchalantly, “that’s just a theory.”
1. Chapter 1

"_The truth is, I want all the same things you want, I do, and I want them with you"_

"_I'll wait forever if I have to"_

"_If I say I love you right now, will you hold it against me?"_

"_I want everything with you"_

"I am so in love with you"

"_I'm gonna love you forever, Lucas Scott"_

Peyton looked down at the paperwork in front of her and tried to focus. God knows she needed to make a success of her career more than ever right now, but it was no use. Her own words of years past haunted her – taunted her. He was engaged, the man she given years of her life to, and a myriad of emotions fought for dominance in her mind, making concentration altogether impossible. Devastation, anger, disbelief, all present and correct… but above all, an overwhelming sense of _embarrassment_.

Peyton Sawyer, traditionally a closed book, found herself wishing, with no small amount of bitterness, that she'd been rather less forthcoming about her feelings for a certain boy in the past. Every word she'd ever said to him – what did it mean now?

Nothing.

That was the horrible, heartbreaking truth.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

She propped her face up with her hand and stared diligently at the ink on the page in front of her. She felt her cheeks colouring of their own accord as she realised the place their memories would occupy in his mind now. A high school silliness of no real substance, just infatuated teenagers, something to laugh about with his wife in years to come. The thought made Peyton physically cringe.

She couldn't bear it. It was too much. To think of her previous passion, her openness, the absolute sureness with which she had uttered those proclamations… the current situation well and truly made a mockery of it all, and the fire of mortification burned through her like acid. All the little moments which once seemed vital to their epic love story now just made Peyton feel so, so _stupid_. She wished she could erase them from her memory altogether or, failing that, at least erase them from _his_. Although really, she thought dryly, it didn't appear that he was going to treasure them with any great care anyway.

Such were the agonies that had been circulating in Peyton's mind all morning, and most of the night too. Out of her torture, one thing had become abundantly clear: she and Lucas Scott were over – really, truly, definitely _over_ – and so help her God, she would never _ever_ beg him again. Her list of ridiculous proclamations was already quite long enough. Continually making the case for a relationship which, incidentally, had been non-existent for 3 years and, crucially, he seemed to find entirely insignificant, was simply too humiliating. And in all honesty, Peyton Sawyer felt quite embarrassed enough already.

It was understandable, therefore, that when the cause of all the trouble arrived on her doorstep, Peyton was less than thrilled.

"Brooke's not here," she said dully. "Although I told her your news already, sorry to ruin the surprise"

"I came to see you," he replied. "I went by Tric but you weren't there."

"Yeah, I decided to work from home this morning." Peyton was already walking away from him, back to her position on the couch beside a coffee table stacked with papers. He hovered uncertainly in the doorframe.

"Is it ok if I come in, or…?" he trailed off uncertainly

"Sure. Would've thought you'd have better things to do today though, Lucas," she answered, making sure to keep her tone light. Peyton was aware she wasn't exactly being the perfect hostess. He had come to see her, had spent all morning tracking her down, in fact, and was getting classic bitchy Peyton for his efforts. She couldn't help smirking inwardly. It was just like old times.

Lucas positioned himself awkwardly on the arm of a chair, facing diagonally from her. "Peyton," he began uneasily, "look, about last night, I'm so sorry-"

She cut him off sharply, barely glancing up from her work. "About which part, kissing me or proposing to her?"

Lucas winced. The magnitude of that question, if he chose to consider it, could change his whole life. But it made him uncomfortable, frankly, so he preferred to avoid it entirely. "I just… I wish you hadn't had to find out like that, it was horrible – I _feel_ horrible," he emphasized, gesturing wildly with his hands. "I really am so s-"

Peyton looked him in the eyes for the first time, and she could see he was genuine. Too bad that wasn't enough. She held up a hand, effectively silencing him. "Luke, I swear to God, if you apologise to me one more time…" Her tone was neutral, and she trailed off gently, holding his gaze for a moment. Her eyes softened briefly, before returning pointedly to the marketing strategy for Mia's next single.

"Alright," he sighed. "I … I guess I'll just go then."

His announcement prompted no discernable reaction from the girl sitting opposite, and so it was with some dejection that Lucas moved to leave. His fingers were on the door handle when he decided to give it one more shot.

"Come on Peyt," he almost pleaded, "this is not us. Please talk to me, I hate leaving like this"

He was speaking to the back of her head, and she stood up to turn around and face him. "Well, as you remind me daily, Lucas, we stopped being "us" three years ago," she replied, her voice emotionless and her armed folded across her chest. Classic signs of a Peyton Sawyer shut down.

"So forgive me," she continued breezily, "if I don't want to sit here and smile while you make yourself feel better"

"Peyton, that's not what this is about!" Lucas exclaimed immediately, genuinely shocked that she could believe that.

"Really, Luke?" she countered, arching an eyebrow and issuing the question sharply, like a challenge. "Well then what do you want from me, a congratulations? Cause I think I said that last night when your fiancée was shoving her ring in my face, inviting me in for champagne!"

"Hey!" he protested, slipping easily into defence mode, although he hardly knew why. At least this argument was comfortable, they'd had it several times by now. "Why do you always have to be so hostile about Lindsay? Can't you see that she's totally innocent here – she didn't ask to get dragged into our mess. She's a good person, Peyton!"

"Oh yeah," Peyton replied sarcastically, "she's _awesome_. Pity her fiancé is such a cheating asshole!" She enunciated every syllable caustically, appearing now to have embraced the idea of an all-out fight with him. It was something of a relief, actually.

Lucas had the decency to look ashamed. Her words, delivered in such blunt fashion, hit him like a slap and he was shocked to realise their truth. "I guess I deserved that," he replied eventually, his tone subdued.

Peyton ignored how confused and pained and sad he looked, she was on a roll. "Y'know, some would say that kissing another woman five minutes before you get engaged isn't really the best foundation for a marriage. But hey," she shrugged nonchalantly, "that's just a theory."

He leaned back against the door and closed his eyes. He really didn't know how his life had come to this, but he supposed there was no point in wondering now. If he read about his current predicament in a magazine, or saw it in a film, it would seem so easy to resolve: either have some balls and do whatever it took to sort it out, or just plain get over it. Such a situation would, frankly, be pretty uninteresting to him in its melodrama. But, of course, this was not someone else's story – it was _his._ And therein lay the tragedy.

Lucas snapped out of his introspection with a jolt, recognising the harsh slam of closing cabinets from the kitchen. He looked over to see that Peyton, having obviously decided there was nothing to be gained from this conversation, was now banging around with a fury.

She felt his stare and looked up at him briefly. "I'd invite you to stay for coffee, but I'm sure you have somewhere to be." She slammed a single mug on the counter top. Never in her life had she had less desire for a mid-morning coffee break, but watching him standing there in silence, Peyton had felt the need for something to do with her hands. She wished to God he would just _leave_.

Instead, he ventured further into the room. Peyton couldn't help rolling her eyes. This was actually no surprise to her; she never had much luck with the Gods or, in recent months, with Lucas Scott, either.

"Look," he began, with renewed fervour, "you know what, last night, I screwed up – the last in a long line of screw ups. _I know that,_ Peyt."

And he did. Lucas was painfully aware that he was falling so far short of the man his mother raised him to be. Through all the mist and complication, marrying Lindsay was the only way he could see of turning himself back into a decent person. He took a breath, and tried to explain it. "I know I've been a jackass, but I don't want to be. I don't even know how it happened. I'm just trying to get back on track here, you know?"

Peyton could see his eyes pleading with her, and felt herself softening a little. After all, she loved this man, and it was becoming clear to her just how lost he really was. His eyes had always been her weakness, and right now they made her want to help him, not hate him. The logical part of her knew that in the coming months, hatred would become very important in her attempt at self-preservation. Peyton moved away quickly to retrieve her freshly brewed coffee.

Lucas viewed her silence as a vast improvement upon her earlier hostility. It was not quite encouragement, perhaps, but was at least a willingness to hear him out.

"I love Lindsay," he stated baldly. It had become a familiar mantra. "And kissing you last night was wrong on so many levels. It wasn't fair to Lindsay or to you."

There was silence as Peyton poured steaming coffee from the pot to her mug. She deliberately drew the mug to her lips and swallowed slowly, wondering if the hot liquid had always been so bitter. He stood directly opposite her on the other side of the counter now, and she met his gaze calmly. "Then why'd you do it, Luke?"

"We both just got carried away, Peyt. I'm engaged now," he reminded her, ignoring the sudden shock he felt at hearing the fact aloud. "It didn't mean anything."

Peyton raised an eyebrow wryly. "Wow, I'm pretty sure we've had this conversation before. Several times, in fact" she answered smoothly.

Lucas looked pained. "Look, I can't explain why it happened, ok? All I know is that it shouldn't have." He sighed. "Peyton, you and I just have so much history, and… I don't know, the way you were looking at me… when you kissed me it was like I literally, physically couldn't -"

"What?" she interrupted him brusquely, setting her mug down with such abruptness that some of the liquid slopped out onto the granite surface. "Couldn't stop yourself, Lucas? I'm just that irresistible, huh?" She spoke sarcastically and her words took on a somewhat interrogative tone. She obviously didn't realize that, actually, they were kind of true. She pointed a finger at him.

" Don't you dare put this all on me. If you came here looking for absolution then I can't help you. It takes two Luke"

"Well, you did kiss me first, Peyton," he fired back, unable to stop himself rising to her accusatory tone.

"And you kissed me second! What are we in the third grade now?" she raised her eyebrows scathingly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Lucas, but I'm pretty sure that was your tongue in my mouth."

The directness of her language shocked them both, and the tension hanging between them became immediately palpable. A different kind of tension, though, than that which had dominated their conversation thus far - not born of anger or confusion… something else, something that was so achingly intimate…

Lucas' gaze automatically went to her lips, and he found himself able to think of only one thing. Peyton, embarrassed at her own bluntness, could feel him looking at her and was fairly certain that she was thinking of that same one thing.

The urge to run, almost a reflex in her younger days, was still familiar enough to Peyton. She picked up her coffee mug and brought it to her lips, looking around the open plan living area awkwardly. There was nowhere to _go_, short of into a bedroom or bathroom. Neither option was very subtle and she really felt that, as a twenty something adult, she should not have to resort to such measures.

"Lucas," she looked up at him, still clutching her mug. "_Please_ go," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

She could sense his reluctance.

"Come on, Luke," she continued. "You say you want to be a better man, then don't do this to me. Don't do it to yourself."

She was speaking more clearly now, willing herself not to be weak anymore. Hadn't that been her resolution only this morning?

"I mean, it's not like you're going to leave her, right?" she asked, although it wasn't really a question. "You proposed to her last night. So why even bother with all this drama anymore?"

At times such as this, when life got really messy and words weren't enough, Lucas had always found a sense of peace with Peyton in his arms. Once upon a time, that was all he needed to make sense of the world. He desperately wanted to reach out and hold her right now, but understood, perhaps for the first time, how counter-productive that would be. The realisation struck him as really fucking heartbreaking.

He looked at her and saw his own pain reflected in her eyes.

At this stage, he knew there was probably only one thing he could do to lessen her hurting. And maybe Lucas Scott hadn't changed all that much, because he was still willing to do whatever it took.

He left.

* * *

I wrote this a while back - it's not that interesting or original, and i never intended to post it, but tonight i just thought i may as well. If nothing else, it'll get me back into the swing of writing again. There is another part to it, or possibly two parts (in which things get happier!) if anyone is interested - i could just leave it as a one-shot though :)

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

A full week passed for Peyton Sawyer without drama, without controversy, without pain

Well, without _new_ pain, at least.

Stepping into Nathan and Haley's hallway, crowded with people and specially decorated for the occasion, she could feel instinctively that this was about to change. She inhaled deeply and allowed Nathan to take her coat. Oh, well. Nothing lasts forever, she knew that by now.

If pressed, Peyton would be forced to admit that attending Lucas's engagement party ranked pretty low on her list of social priorities, somewhere under a High School Musical concert with Satan as the opening act. But nonetheless, here she was, smiling. As she and Brooke had discussed at length, there was nothing more pathetic than the bitter ex who just couldn't let it go.

In retrospect, Peyton felt that she had probably behaved less than gracefully with Lucas in private the previous week, and was determined to conserve a little more dignity in public. Her strategy was simple: make an appearance, smile benignly for about ninety minutes and then get the hell out of there. Brooke, under strict instructions not to leave her side for any length of time under any circumstances, ushered her towards the buffet, and Peyton allowed herself to be led away. Every minute she was here, she reminded herself, brought her one minute closer to leaving. That, at least, was some comfort.

She loaded her plate with party food vacantly, taking in the scene around her. It was a beautiful sunny evening, quality music – no doubt the result of Haley's expert guidance – was floating from the speakers, and there looked to be a great turn out. Despite the relaxed and informal nature of the event, dressing for this thing had been a nightmare. Nothing too casual, lest she look as though she were disrespecting the occasion, but nothing to show stopping either - wouldn't want to be accused of trying to upstage Lindsay, now, would she? Peyton did find it vaguely irritating that these were now among her life's chief concerns, but nevertheless, was pleased to realise that the short blue dress she had chosen seemed to be appropriate.

Half an hour later Lucas spotted her in his periphery as he walked through the living room, and practically had to do a double take. He hadn't believed she was really going to come, and considered her attendance an unspeakably good sign. To be married to Lindsay and truly be friends with Peyton represented, in his view, the best possible outcome of a wholly screwed up situation. He took advantage of his position, which ensured that he could see Peyton but Peyton couldn't see him, to observe her for a moment. If called upon it, he would deny it vehemently and convincingly, but in truth, this had become something of a habit for Lucas since Peyton's return. He liked to see how much she'd changed – and how much she hadn't.

He didn't suppose it would be disloyal to acknowledge that, in a petrol blue chiffon affair that cinched in at the waist and fell to just above the knee, Peyton looked effortlessly beautiful. It was less of an opinion, more of a fact, he reasoned. He wondered briefly if she realised she'd been wearing a lot more skirts since she got back from LA. At the moment, she and Brooke were engaged in what looked like a rather in-depth conversation with Jamie, and he smiled at the scene. There was no doubt about it, both of his ex-girlfriends were going to make wonderful mothers some day.

The sun was beginning to set, bathing the whole room in perfect, pinkish light, and Lucas allowed his gaze to wonder toward the poolside. Through the vast glass windows, his eyes rested on his fiancée. Sweet, smart, wonderful Lindsay. There was so much to love about her. She had saved him. He knew that people – Nathan, Haley, his mother, everyone, really – had been sceptical about their relationship at first. And perhaps they were right when they doubted if he was happy with her in quite the same way as he had been happy with Peyton.

Lucas wasn't above admitting it. He had been happy with Peyton in a way that quite simply defined happiness in his life.

But Peyton broke him, completely, and Lindsay fixed it, mostly. So he figured maybe what he had now was a better kind of happiness, and certainly safer.

As different people passed him, many stopping to talk and congratulate him, Lucas kept looking back towards Peyton, waiting for the best moment to approach. It seemed that Brooke was sticking to her best friend's side like glue and, much as he liked the girl, he wanted to speak with Peyton alone. He needed to tell her how much her mere presence meant to him. It provided all the hope he needed for their friendship in the future. Eventually, led by an insistent Jamie, Brooke found herself dragged off to his bedroom, mouthing apologies at Peyton, who simply waved them away laughingly. Lucas made a mental note to thank his nephew later, and seized the opportunity.

"You came," he said, walking up to her with a glass of white wine in hand.

Peyton glanced up in surprise. "I did," she replied, taking the offered glass with a smile.

"Thank you. "

Lucas was looking directly into her eyes and his words were evidently heartfelt. She shrugged them off with an embarrassed smile. Maybe she was paranoid now, on top of everything else, but she felt as though several pairs of eyes in the room were covertly watching them.

He noticed the subtle signs of her discomfort, and, more on reflex than anything else, cast his eyes quickly over her slender figure.

"You look good, Peyt," he said, surprised by the low murmur of his own voice. He had been going for a genial tone – brotherly, even – but somehow, quite without warning, seemed to have strayed off the mark a little.

Again, Peyton avoided his gaze. Christ almighty. He didn't make it easy. Any kind of intimacy, even if entirely innocent, could surely lead to no good, she thought briskly. It was time things got back on track.

"Thanks, you too," she replied pleasantly. "The party's great, Lucas. Brooke and I just got some food, it was amazing."

"Oh yeah, Haley really went all out, huh?"

"Totally," Peyton nodded. "Best sushi I've ever tasted. So, uh…" she glanced around awkwardly. "Where's your fiancée gotten to tonight?" she asked lightly, willing herself not to choke on the word.

"I'm not sure actually" Lucas rubbed a hand over the stubble on his cheek. "Some of her friends from New York came down, so I think she's out by the pool with them."

"Oh," Peyton replied, unable to come up with a more interesting response. "Well, listen, Luke, I think I'm probably going to have to take off in an hour or so, I have a really early conference call with LA in the morning," she lied, backing away from the conversation slowly. "I'll definitely try and find you and Lindsay before I go though."

"Okay," Lucas replied lamely. He paused a second and then, apparently struck by new resolve, opened his mouth to speak again.

When he looked up, she was already gone.

* * *

Twenty minutes later (and thirty five to go, but who was counting?), Peyton was surprised to find herself actually having a decent time, chatting to Mouth and Millicent about a promising new demo that came through the previous day. Anything to keep her mind off recent interaction with Lucas. She supposed it _was_ his engagement party, so it shouldn't have been much of a shock to run in to him, but still… any and all contact with him left her feeling rather off kilter. This fact alone aroused in Peyton a certain sense of… disappointment. She had never wanted to be this way. She had actually put an inordinate amount of effort into _not_ becoming this girl – the one who needs a man to make her happy, who pines after someone she'll never have. And the worst part was, she had seen this coming. Peyton had known when she was sixteen that Lucas Scott would make her weak, but just couldn't bring herself to care.

And now she was paying the price, she thought grimly, as she watched him approach. Right on cue.

"Hey you guys, everyone ok for drinks here?" he asked, trying to catch her eye.

Peyton kept her eyes downcast, and Mouth and Millicent's polite replies went unheard as a tall, jovial sort of man approached to join their company.

"Lucas! My man!" he exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Tony!" Lucas turned around in surprise, offering the other man his hand. "You made it!"

"Yeah, sorry I'm late, car wouldn't start, I had to get a cab " he answered ruefully.

"No worries man, party's just getting started anyway. Hey," Lucas turned to the other three, "these are my friends, Mouth, Millicent and Peyton. Guys, this is Tony, he works with Hales and I at the school."

Tony smiled at them all easily, shaking their hands. When he reached Peyton, Lucas couldn't resist interjecting.

"Peyton actually knows a little bit about car trouble herself, right Peyt?" he asked playfully, hoping to fall into their easy banter.

She could see that he was striving to make some kind of connection with her, but at this stage, she really didn't see the point. According to her newly drawn-up code, inside jokes and teasing were a no-no, and walks down memory lane were suicide. Giving Lucas only the briefest glance that good manners demanded, she focussed her attention on the darker haired man in front of her.

"Yeah, I still have the car I had in high school, and it was old back then," she said with a smile. "I actually think I'm probably going to have to get something else one of these days."

"You're selling the Comet?" Lucas asked incredulously, his question coming out rather more quickly than he intended. "I mean, uh," he feigned casualness, ensuring his tone returned to normal, "why?"

"Yeah, Peyton, you've had that thing so long." Mouth added. "It'd just be weird seeing you in anything else."

"I know, I know," Peyton replied, again directing her answer not at Lucas but at Mouth and the others. "I mean, I loved it – I still do love it – but it's unreliable." She couldn't help stealing a glance at Lucas. "I think it's just time to move on."

"You're probably right," Lucas said softly, fixing his gaze on her. She met it head on, without fear.

A couple of seconds later, and they could both tell that the others in their company were starting to feel a little awkward. Lucas snapped out of it – he was the host, after all. "Tony," he said brightly, turning to look at his friend, "some of the other guys from work are out at the grill, how about we go join them?"

He and Peyton would have to continue this later, without an audience. Lucas couldn't say he relished the prospect.

* * *

Everyone's coats were being stored in the study, and it was with no small measure of relief that Peyton retrieved hers and moved to finally head home. She had not, as earlier promised, said goodbye to Lindsay or Lucas, but doubted either would be particularly devastated at the fact. Suddenly, Peyton felt someone approaching her from behind, taking a light grip on her left arm, accompanied by a gruff "c'mere." She could hardly help emitting a small sound of disbelief, but allowed herself to be tugged back into the study without much convincing protest. She knew exactly who it was.

"What's going on with you tonight, Peyton?" he questioned, wasting no time once the door was shut behind them.

"What do you mean?" she replied evasively.

Lucas resisted the urge to sigh. Sometimes it seemed to him that he could just as well be sixteen again, trying to break down her walls. "You know what I mean, you've been weird all night."

"Weird?" she repeated.

"Distant."

"Well, I'm sorry Lucas," Peyton said, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "But that's the best I can offer you."

"But it doesn't have to be this way!" he exclaimed in frustration. "Don't you get it, Peyt? Just because I'm with Lindsay, that doesn't mean I don't still care about you. I really, really want us to be friends," he finished pleadingly.

Peyton appeared unmoved by his declaration. She sat down on a stiff leather arm chair near the study door, regarding him carefully. "You know what your problem is, Luke?" she challenged him.

He got the feeling this was a rhetorical question, and wisely said nothing.

"You always have to be the good guy," she continued. "Like right now, talking to me. Like last week, coming to my house to check on me the morning after you proposed to another woman. I mean… God!" she exclaimed, with a mirthless laugh. "Can't you see how ridiculous that is? Don't you _get_ that you just can't be that guy for me anymore?"

Lucas, now half perched on the heavy mahogany desk, again remained quiet, appearing to be digesting her words. Peyton took the opportunity to make herself very clear.

"Do you think it's even possible for you and I to be just friends at this point Lucas? Honestly?"

"Well, why not?" he replied, ever the optimist. "Because we dated? Come on, we were friends before we were ever a couple – although actually," he qualified, "I guess it was more like me watching you from afar and you being unbelievably mean to me, but hey, that's friendship of sorts."

Peyton permitted him a small smirk at that, remembering their former selves. It seemed like so long ago, and she wished to God she'd cut her losses back then, while she still could. It didn't take a genius to work out that she'd long since passed the point of no return.

Encouraged by the smile tugging adorably at the corners of Peyton's lips, Lucas continued.

"Just, please, Peyton," he implored her. "This is a small town, we have the same friends, it's going to suck for everyone if there's weirdness between us."

"I know!" she replied, a little more forcefully than intended, rising suddenly from her chair. "I know that! But you're…" Peyton closed her eyes briefly. "You're asking an awful lot of me here, Luke."

"Or maybe I'm not," he countered. "Maybe I'm not, and you and I just have a gift for complicating things. I mean, look at you and Nate – you guys dated in high school and now it's totally cool."

Peyton exhaled suddenly in disbelief. "I'm sorry," she said acerbically, leaning against the wall. "Did I hear that wrong, or did you just compare the juvenile, insignificant, _nothing_ relationship I had with Nathan - sustained solely because I was lonely and he was horny – with…" she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. "_Seriously_, Luke?" she asked again, after a moment's silence.

She was looking at him directly in the eye, and he could see the anger there, the disbelief and the pain. Seeing that look flash in her green eyes, knowing that he was the one who put it there, made him feel that somewhere along the way his life had gone very, very wrong. He raised a hand to his forehead despairingly and shook his head. "God, how'd this get so fucked up?" he asked, any more eloquent phrasing escaping him. It was more a question for himself than the girl standing opposite him.

_Still_, he persisted in believing, there had to be something salvageable here. There just _had_ to be.

"Just please tell me you'll think about it," he said eventually, "the friends thing. I know it's hard for you. It's hard for me too, believe it or not. But it's got to be better than… whatever the hell that was tonight."

Seeing Lucas like this – confused, desperate, hurting – was heartbreaking for Peyton, creating a duller, more persistent ache than the stabbing sensation of her own pain. The combination of the two was crippling. The need to touch him was overpowering, and she stepped forward, only to restrain herself mere seconds later. She was not his girlfriend. If he needed comforting, there was someone just outside who would be only too happy to oblige. As for her… she'd be fine.

"Distant." Peyton said lightly, willing herself not to cry. "Is that what you said I was? You think I _want_ to be distant, Luke? Cause let me assure you, I want to be completely and totally the _opposite_ of distant. But it's one extreme or the other, and guess which one you chose."

Peyton, drained from the conversation, moved towards the door quickly, but not quick enough. She barely had it open before Lucas was behind her, slamming it shut roughly.

"Don't go," he said lowly, tantalizingly close to her. "I _need_ you in my life. That's all I know right now."

"You need me?" Peyton echoed, choking back the tears. She placed both of her palms on his chest and shoved roughly, physically pushing him away. "I don't doubt it, Lucas. I mean, that's why you don't want anybody else to have me, right?"

He looked surprised, and she was more than happy to clarify. "Like that guy at the party for Brooke's store? You've made it pretty clear you don't want me Lucas," she said, with more than a trace of bitterness, "but the more I think about it, the more I think you quite enjoy me wanting you. Good old Peyton, you know, blast from the past, always there on the backburner…"

Lucas was literally stunned by what he was hearing. There was no denying that it was difficult for him to see her with another man. Watching her flirt with that bartender a few weeks ago, he had suddenly and unexpectedly experienced a sharp stab of jealousy that cut so deep and wide it left him open, exposed, chilled to the bone. But for her to imply that she was his second choice, his backup…. did she know nothing? He had asked her to _marry_ him. Truly incensed, Lucas opened his mouth to respond, but Peyton wouldn't allow him.

"So yes, Lucas," she hissed, before he could get his words out, "I know you need me. You need me for a quick fumble when you've had a fight with your girlfriend. You need me to look at you and make you remember who the hell you want to be in this life – to make you feel like maybe you were more, you _could be_ more, than this asshole you are currently."

Peyton looked away, emotionally exhausted. "And oh!" she added as an afterthought, turned back to face him, flinging her arms up. "Just to top it off, rumour has it I'm your fucking muse!"

There was silence in the room, with only the only sounds those of the party outside. It was hard to believe that behind that door, all their friends were happily drinking punch.

"Haley may have mentioned something," Peyton muttered eventually, in response to his unuttered question. "So what the hell's that about, Luke?" she asked, her tone rather surly now.

"I don't know," he replied tiredly. "I couldn't write, and then you came back and I could again. I don't know."

She simply looked at him, and waited.

He snapped. "Alright! Fine, Peyton!" he practically shouted, his voice rising with every syllable. "You want to hear me say it? I'm worried ok?!" He paused for breath, inhaling deeply, grasping for air. "I'm worried that I buried something that wasn't dead. But it's too late to do anything about it now!"

She tried to process this, but there wasn't time for anything more, at least nothing as inconsequential as words, because suddenly his mouth was on hers. Hot and open and demanding. He pushed her against the wall and gave her everything he had. It was a messy, desperate kiss on both their parts, and Peyton moaned as she opened her mouth for him, taking his tongue deeply and sliding her own around it. She clutched at his face as he tangled his hands in her hair, both of them panting for breath, hardly able to believe that this was happening but needing it to continue. Lucas thrust a knee between her legs, pushing her further up the wall and supporting her weight as she strained against him. He kissed her throat, her collarbones, any bare skin he could get his hands on and she threw her head back, letting him do it.

When he sucked at her earlobe, whispering her name hotly, something in Peyton jolted back to consciousness.

She tore her body away from his and she ran.

* * *

The next evening, Peyton was in her kitchen at home, trying to get the memory of his hands on her out of her head. She was beginning to fear it was impossible. The backlash would start soon, or so she assumed. She was actually surprised Lucas hadn't come to Tric today to do some damage control. When 6pm arrived with no sign of him, Peyton breathed a sigh of relief. She really couldn't handle any of his 'you kissed me first' bullshit.

Hearing Brooke's key in the door, Peyton smiled. She had decided that vast quantities of alcohol were in order tonight, and her best friend was usually a more than willing participant in such debauchery.

"No wonder you're smiling!" Brooke called with her usual exuberance as she walked into the hallway. "I would be too if I were you – hell, I _was_, all day!"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be all coy with me P. Sawyer, you know!" Brooke's eye's twinkled as she flung off her shoes. She frowned a little at her friend's blank expression. "You don't know?

Peyton looked nonplussed.

"You don't know," Brooke finally accepted, wrapping her brain around the fact. This was classic.

"Peyton," she said, just as the blond was beginning to look irritated, "Lucas broke it off with Lindsay this morning. Shortest engagement ever or what?" she squealed, obviously delighted.

Peyton dropped her coffee mug.

* * *

Hope you liked, there is possibly one more part. All reviews are such encouragement and definitely make me want to update. Thanks to all those who reviewed last time - without you this would never have been written at all.

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	3. Chapter 3

Four people had entered Peyton's office that morning, none of whom were Lucas Scott. First there was a delivery guy, then a reporter from Thud followed by a scrawny teenager with his band's demo in hand and finally, Brooke, hungry for an update. With every knock, Peyton's stomach churned and with every disappointment, her jitteriness increased exponentially. She didn't know how much longer she could take it. In any case, the whole charade seemed vaguely ridiculous to her, and it made her feel like such a _girl_.

By lunchtime, she had resigned herself to the fact that he obviously wasn't coming to see her anytime soon, and decided to relax. He could have it his way, Peyton thought. In the meantime, she may as well get some work done. Her morning, thus far, had been less than productive.

She was on her knees riffling through the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet when she felt a presence behind her. Already somewhat on edge, Peyton couldn't help rolling her eyes. She knew her friends meant well, but so help her God, if this was Haley…

Peyton craned her neck and glanced round impatiently.

It wasn't Haley.

"Hi," Peyton said, after a moment's hesitation, her back straightening.

"Hey," he replied quietly, taking in the sight of her. On the floor with her legs crossed under her, wearing her traditional uniform of jeans, a white long sleeved top and a vintage t-shirt, Lucas was struck by how young she looked.

"So Lindsay and I broke up," he said clearly.

Peyton met his gaze head on, looking – as she always did – beyond the words and into his soul. She was surprised to see a new calm there, a new sense of purpose.

"Yeah, I heard that," she answered simply.

Lucas smiled ruefully. "I figured you might have. So listen," his eyes darted around restlessly, "is this a bad time or can we… talk? You look like you're pretty busy here."

"Yeah, no, it's fine," Peyton mumbled in response, aware she wasn't making much sense. "Uhh…" she shifted the papers that were clustered in small piles around her, bunching them all together and throwing them haphazardly back into a drawer. "Pull up a… piece of concrete, I guess," she continued, with a small smile.

Lucas smiled in return and immediately sat down alongside her, his legs stretched out in front of them.

"You have got to get better seating in this office, Sawyer. What happens when all the big time execs show up from LA?" he teased gently.

Peyton smirked. "Oh," she said conspiratorially, "I make them stand, just out of spite."

"Well, good, I'd expect nothing less," he fired back irreverently.

It felt good not to be screaming at each other. Removing sex and love and all kinds of other horribly adult problems from the picture, it had been a long time since Lucas and Peyton had been able to just _be_ with each other. Even so, their smiles faded quickly. They both knew Lucas hadn't dropped by for witty repartee and a catch-up.

"So," Peyton shifted slightly, turning her body more towards his, "What did…" she cleared her throat nervously. "What did you want to talk about, Luke?"

Lucas rested his head on the wall behind him. "God."

He thought he had been ready for this. He had prepared what he wanted to say and had repeated it _ad nauseam _on the car journey over. But now, sitting here, looking at her, he found that most of it escaped him, and the parts he could remember sounded… lame. Lucas was a writer, he could easily turn a pretty phrase, but he knew better than to try and seduce Peyton Sawyer with platitudes. If there was anyone in the world who would waste no time in calling him on his bullshit, it was she.

"I hardly even know where to start," he said honestly.

"Start anywhere," she replied, without hesitation. "Hey," she touched his thigh unconsciously, forcing him to look at her. "It's me, start anywhere."

Lucas thought, not for the first time, how startling her green eyes were. They were eyes that could make a person do anything.

"I didn't get much sleep last night," he said eventually, adding flippantly, "Recent events have given me plenty to think about."

Peyton smiled slightly in response.

"But anyway," Lucas continued, deciding just to go for it, "I guess should probably just cut to the chase here, Peyton." Hadn't that been his resolution when he broke up with Lindsay? Stop fucking around, be a man, _don't waste any more time_. He took a breath.

"I know I'm probably not your favorite person right now, but you're the love of my life."

He spoke clearly, with an absolute conviction he hadn't heard in his own voice for far too long. Lucas looked at her steadfastly, trying to gauge her reaction. He got nothing.

"You're perfect," he continued desperately, "and I'm… _not_ perfect, but I _am_ in love with you. Like, really, insanely, _stupidly_ in love with you. Always have been. And," his voice took on a chagrined tone, "despite my attempts to convince myself and everyone else otherwise… always will be."

There was silence. Lucas could feel his heart pounding out of his chest, seconds stretching out like years.

"So, yeah," he finished awkwardly. "I know this is messed up, but there you have it. That's the truth,"

Peyton looked a little dazed, and when she opened her mouth to speak, her voice was little more than a whisper.

"Okay then," she said finally.

He didn't know if it was deliberate or not, but Peyton was giving little away, and Lucas wasn't altogether sure of what he should do or say next. He was weighing his options when a seemingly involuntary cry tore from her lips, something like a strangled sob. She buried her face in her hands, not bothering to turn away from him, and Lucas looked on, feeling utterly helpless.

In the not too distant past, he would have cited the ability to understand and lessen this girl's pain as one of his most precious and finely honed skills. He had, after all, dealt with all manner of tragedies alongside her, and had held her in his arms as she wept on more than a few previous occasions. But now, he found it impossible discern if she was even crying, never mind if she wanted to be touched. He regarded her, perfectly still, emitting muffled sounds from behind cupped hands. Maybe she just wanted to be left alone.

A hiccup, a gasp for air, a deep, deliberate breath. A loud, tortured groan of frustration. A giggle.

Lucas Scott was genuinely ready to crawl into a hole and die until he heard that laugh.

Sure enough, when Peyton removed her hands her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but she was smiling.

"Well, God, Lucas!" she cried brokenly, throwing her hands up to heaven and still half laughing. "What the hell took you so long?"

She wiped her eyes carelessly with heel of one hand, shoving him in the chest playfully with the other. "Huh?"

Her face was inches away from his now, her whole body angled towards him, and Lucas could barely comprehend what was happening. Among the many things he had learned in the past three years, a certain guardedness with his heart was undoubtedly one, but he just couldn't seem to help the feeling of hope creeping in and spreading slowly through his entire being, like warm, liquid elation.

Peyton watched with interest as a stunned, then rather bemused expression crossed his features. She smiled softly.

"You ever going to kiss me, Lucas Scott?"

He did not need to be asked twice.

When everything you have ever wanted is sitting five inches away from you, you don't deliberate, you don't second guess yourself. You grab it with both hands. Lucas snapped out of his reverie and pulled Peyton's face to his, kissing her hard.

Without breaking contact, he moved them both to a kneeling position and pulled her flush against him, wrapping one arm around the small of her back and tangling the other in her hair. For her part, Peyton placed both her hands on his jaw line, pawing at his face, pulling him further into her. They kissed with abandon, furiously, breathlessly.

Eventually the need for oxygen won out and Peyton pulled back to look him in the eye, noticing that he was panting slightly, as she was. It had been a long time since she'd seen him like this. She held his gaze intensely for a moment, before falling into him, letting her body go limp in his arms. She kissed whatever body part was closest to her, his shoulder, and felt him tighten his grip on her waist, burying his face in her hair.

"Nothing else feels like this," Peyton said, so quietly he could barely hear her.

"You know that, right?" she continued. "Nothing else feels the way we do."

Lucas nodded fiercely. Fuck yes. He knew.

Moments passed with only their gradually evening breath punctuating the silence, until they came together once more. Peyton felt his hands draw her head from his shoulder and her eyes fluttered shut as he began to place sweet, open mouthed kisses on her forehead, her eyelid, her cheekbone. Quite unconsciously, she parted her lips slightly in anticipation of what was to come, and could soon feel him smile against her skin as he just barely grazed the very corner of her mouth.

As a general rule in life, Peyton did not like to be teased; but since it was him, she would make an exception. She smiled lazily.

Lucas, hardly able to believe that he was allowed to view and touch her body so intimately, took a moment to simply observe the sight of her. Head tilted back, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, willing and waiting for him. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and he wanted to worship her, because she deserved to be worshipped.

When his lips finally did meet hers, it was everything they wanted it to be. The sweetest, most satisfying kiss. Pure and right.

Mouths opening softly, tongues moving languidly, fingers reacquainting themselves with contours never quite for gotten. Evidently, both Lucas and Peyton had come to the same wonderful realisation: there was no need to rush this now. Without Haley waiting to interrupt and tut disapprovingly, without a fiancée in the next room, there was only each other. Just four hands and two faces and nothing else in the world of any consequence.

* * *

Peyton picked up two coffee cups and wondered idly how long they had been holed up in this office talking. She figured it must have been a while, but had utterly lost track of time. It might have been two hours, it might have been six, she honestly didn't care. Peyton hadn't realised how much of herself she had held back until she no longer had to. It was exhilarating and intoxicating and soothing and she wondered if she felt it too.

Lucas had given her a line-by-line account of his break up with Lindsay, and also told her of the plot of his half-finished novel.

They discussed the fate of various high school classmates, and a particularly funny episode of _The Office_ they had both caught that week. Peyton played Lucas a demo she thought had serious potential.

She revealed she had dated a bit in LA, and even had a boyfriend – for one month. He'd had blonde hair and blue eyes, but didn't smell the same, and didn't know anything about her, really.

She said that sometimes she couldn't sleep at night for worrying about the record label, wondering if she was making the right decisions, doing a good job. Lucas replied that he found new ways to be proud of her, from a distance, every day. She was a whirlwind and he, meanwhile, feared that the Tree Hill High basketball team were well and truly kicking his ass.

Lucas had admitted shamefacedly that he had gone on a date with Lindsay solely because he believed Peyton chose not to attend his book signing, and had proposed to her largely because she had found the ring. Their entire relationship had essentially been by default, and Lucas didn't know what kind of man that made him. Peyton hadn't ventured to suggest, she'd just made him a coffee, caressing his stubble briefly as she placed it in his hands.

"Thanks," he said gently as she settled herself down beside him.

"S'ok," she replied. "I think I actually got some feeling back in my ass from walking around."

Lucas just laughed in response, taking a gulp of the steaming liquid.

"You know," Peyton started, with the air of someone embarking upon a story, "when I woke up this morning I lay in bed for a while and I said to myself that if you came to see me, I wasn't going to give you the time of day."

Lucas nodded gravely. If she had told him where to go, neither he nor anyone else of their acquaintance would have blamed her. He was ineffably glad she hadn't though, and said as much, nudging her shoulder playfully.

Peyton smiled. "Me too. It's just funny – I mean, seriously, I was all "he thinks I'll just fall into his arms, I'll show him." And now look at us!" she exclaimed, gesturing between them. "Wouldn't change it though…"

Lucas turned slightly to face her more directly. "Are you sure?" he asked earnestly. "Cause Peyton, I know I've put you through a lot … like, really a _lot_. So, if you want to wait a while – six months, a year, whatever, it doesn't matter – I can wait."

She wondered if he realised that for three years, that's all she needed to hear.

Things were different now, though, and she shook her head decisively. "I can't. You're a mess, Lucas Scott," she said, placing her hand on his neck and pulling his face towards her. "But you're my mess." She kissed him quickly. "And I've always been yours."

He smiled, and watched as a grin spread slowly across her face too, centimetres from his own.

"And anyway," she continued, rubbing her nose against his, "I have a feeling," she leant in to kiss him, "that things are going to get a lot better for both of us from now on."

Lucas brushed against her lips again. "That's funny, I was thinking the exact same thing."

She smiled indulgently. "Well how about that. But," she said suddenly, moving away from him slightly and holding up her index finger in stern warning, "we have to take it slow. As in very, very slow."

Lucas couldn't help cocking an eyebrow in amusement. "Slow, huh, Peyt?"

She knew exactly what he was thinking about, and couldn't help a faint blush rising to her cheeks at the recollection of their early afternoon activities.

_"Take off your shirt," she had whispered in between kisses, beginning the job for him by undoing the first few buttons. He looked at her questioningly. "I'm serious," she gazed up at him, her voice a low husk now. "It's been three years, take off your shirt, Luke." He did so, continuing to kiss her unhurriedly as her fingers traced over the planes of his chest and came to rest on his shoulder blades. Peyton sighed contentedly, able to focus on nothing but Lucas's lips on her neck, losing herself to his warmth and strength in a haze of pleasure. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt him tugging down the zipper of her jeans. He paused only to glance up for permission – swiftly granted – __before slipping his fingers inside, past her underwear, into her heat. He touched her gently until she fell apart in his arms, kissing her softly all the while._

Afterwards, Peyton had felt it would be only polite to return the favour.

She looked at the man in front of her, now wearing a roguish expression, but his eyes soft.

Who was she kidding? She had _wanted_ to do it, had wanted to give him what he had given her.

Peyton could still feel the heat on her cheeks, but couldn't stop a smile tugging at her lips. "Shut up," she said, arching an eyebrow.

Lucas laughed in response, flinging his hands up in a gesture of innocence. "I didn't say anything!"

Her eyes narrowed. "Well you were thinking about it, I can tell. And I want you to know, Lucas Scott, that I think you are a very, very dirty boy."

He give this fact due consideration before replying solemnly, "I'm okay with that."

Peyton assumed an expression of mock outrage and shoved him lightly. "I'm sure you are! But seriously, Luke, there will be no more of _that_. We need to take baby steps here, ok?"

He nodded in agreement.

"So that means no marriage proposals, Luke!" she added, only half joking. "No asking me to move in with you, or anything like that. We're young. We'll get there - cause I want it so badly, and I'm in this for the long haul. But just not yet, ok?" she finished gently.

Lucas nodded again, overwhelmed with love for the woman sitting beside him. "So, what are we, Peyt? I mean, what are the rules?"

Peyton frowned, wondering if they could even put a definition on it. She was already in love with this man, but hadn't so much as gone to the movies with him in years. Everything about their relationship had always been a bit unconventional though, a bit chaotic and out of order. "How about…" she paused, thinking. "How about we're two friends who care a lot about each other and are currently dating and just… letting it happen."

Lucas smiled. "I think I can live with that." That sounded about perfect, in fact.

Peyton took hold of his hands and looked him in the eye, speaking seriously. "Look, we've both made mistakes these past three years, not just you – although," she grinned playfully, "a lot you."

Lucas, who had been playing with her fingers, stopped abruptly and made a face at her childishly, before smiling and resuming his movements.

Peyton smiled, too. "But, just, you know…" she groaned, thinking with frustration of their previous foolishness, "pride and fear and… a million other stupid things, Lucas. We can't let any of that stuff get in the way again."

"It won't," he answered surely. "This is it."

A pause.

Peyton looked into the depths of his blue eyes, and the certainty she saw there excited her more than she could say. Her next words were barely whispered, but Lucas could decipher them from the movement of her lips.

"I know."

She smiled and he did too, like two conspirators with a secret. A treasure that was only theirs.

"So, anyway," Peyton said lightly, breaking the mood somewhat, "while we're doing all this soul-searching and figuring out our issues and whatnot, if you wanted to take me out for dinner sometime, I'd be ok with that."

Lucas stood up, tugging her up with him. He had been fully aware, driving here today, that their relationship now – or absence of a relationship, as it might have been – would have to be on her terms. As it happened, these were terms he would have no difficulty honouring.

"How about now?"

Peyton looked surprised. "What time is it?" She glanced down at her watch, the hands showing five thirty. "Oh my God," she exclaimed, "Lucas, we've been in here for, like, four and a half hours!"

He said nothing and simply led her towards the door, an arm draped around her shoulders.

"Sure takes you a long time to ask a girl out, Mr. Scott," she observed teasingly.

"Are you kidding me?" he answered, his tone light-hearted. "You're _Peyton Sawyer_. You're a _cheerleader_, for God's sakes. I'm just a kid from the Rivercourt."

Peyton threw her head back and laughed, reminded suddenly of all the very best bits of her teenage years.

She flipped off the light switch of her office and pulled the door behind them, hooking her arm around Lucas's waist.

"True," she commented, as they headed towards the Comet. "But hey, I'm throwing you a bone here. And if you wanted to flirt _outrageously_ with me at dinner, I'd be fine with that too."

* * *

**I'm sorry this took so long, i was going to go for an ending that was a bit more realistic (and hopefully there's still a bit of realism there) but the sappyness won out!**

**Just to mention, the title of this fic is taken from a great Colin Hay song, so credit where it's due. Also, one line of this chapter will feature in 601 - those of you you are up on your spoilers will know - everyone else, feel free to guess!**

**If anyone would like to put in a request for an LP fic now that this one is finished, please do so, and i'll try my best. An AU premise, or a missing scene/alternate scene fic...whatever.**

**I won't get another chance to say it, so just wanted to add that the response to this story has been really flattering. I'm a bit rusty at writing and always feel a bit embarrassed about it anyway, but everyone has been really nice. Thank you very much.**

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